Denial
by Zebrastreifen
Summary: How can you help someone deal with something if they deny it ever happened? SEQUEL TO "DISGUST" - *Rated M for references to non-consensual sex*
1. Chapter 1

_**So, there it is: The follow-up story to "Disgust"  
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_**Enjoy! (and review!)**_

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When Aaron Hotchner entered his office, he wasn`t surprised to find the small lamp on the answering machine of his work phone blinking. After what had happened to Emily this weekend, he had been pretty sure she would take a few days off to sort things out. Hotch sighed.

He had walked her to the door of her apartment because he had wanted to make sure she got home safely and - to be honest - because he had hoped she`d invite him in. However, Emily had just quickly sneeked inside, murmurring what he interpreted as "thank you". Hotch had been standing in front of her apartment for quite some time, trying to decide whether he should ring the doorbell or call her and - well, just be there for her. After a while, his phone had buzzed, indicating he had received a text message. It read: "Please leave, Aaron. I'm fine"

He'd called her immediately after receiving her text, knowing she was not fine at all. To his surprise, she had actually accepted his call, but just to whisper two words before she ended the call again: "I`m sorry..." Her voice was so shaky he knew - just knew - she was crying. He'd called her back a few times, trying to find out what she was apologizing for, but his calls had gotten straight to voice mail. He`d never left a message, not knowing what to say. He wanted her to know that he was there for her, that she didn`t have to go through this all by herself. He had wanted her to know that what had happened was not her fault, that there was no reason to blame, to hate herself. But instead of calling her again and again, Hotch had decided to give her some time. So after a while, he had actually left, not wanting to pressure her, figuring - hoping!- that she'd contact him if she needed him.

As far as he could tell, Emily would take a few days, maybe even a week off before even considering returning to work, facing everybody - especially him. They were profilers - she knew they would notice even the slightest changes in her behavior and draw their own conclusions, so she would want to make sure it wasn`t completely obvious that she had spent the past nights crying herself to sleep. Of course they were also her friends, but she was still Emily Prentiss - and Emily Prentiss was too proud to have anyone doubt that she was not invincible after all...

Hotch sighed again and pressed the voicemail button on the phone on his desk. "You have - one - new message. Message one: today, 3:46 am". Beep. "Hotch?" He was surprised to hear JJ`s voice instead of Emily`s. "It`s JJ, as you can probably still hear. I can`t come to work tomorrow - well, today. Whatever. Henry has been sick all weekend, and now Will and I are, too. I`m pretty sure you don`t want to hear the details... I`m sorry - I`ll be back as soon as I can!" The familiar beep resonated though the office, indicating the end of the voicemail. The shrill, automated voice announced: "You have - zero - new messages".

That was when Hotch started being seriously worried about Emily - because apart from being proud, she was also reliable: No matter what - if Emily was not going to show up for work (which had only happened once or twice in the past years), she`d give him a call. Unless...


	2. Chapter 2

Running out of his office, Hotch bumped into Morgan. "Whoa. Morning, boss... You okay?" "Where's Emily?" "What?" "Emily. Have you seen her?" Hotch urged, unable to hide the worry in his voice. Morgan gave him a confused look. "She's at the vending machines, I guess. Said she needed something to drink." "She's here?" "Yeah! Why wouldn't she? What's wrong, Hotch?" Ignoring Morgan's question, Hotch ran towards the vending machines. There she was.

"Morning!" Emily greeted. "What?" The brunette frowned. "Good morning, Hotch." She repeated happily. Happily! "What are you doing here, Emily?" Another frown. "I work here, remember?" A young agent from a different unit approached. Standing in front of one of the vending machines, he looked back and forth between Hershey's and Snickers, pretending he couldn't decide what to buy. Hotch rolled his eyes - it was obvious the guy was just eavesdropping. "Can... can I have a word with you, Emily?" "Uh, sure?" The other agent was now openly staring at them, no longer even pretending to be interested in a snack. Hotch shot him an annoyed glance and guided Emily towards his office.

Being polite, he gestured towards a chair offering her to sit down. Being Emily, she refused. Hotch sighed and closed the door. "What are you doing?" "What are _you_ doing, Emily?" She gulped. "What do you mean?" "What are you doing here? You shouldn't be here yet, Emily. Take some time off. It's okay!" "Why?" _WHY_? How could she even ask that? "Because of what happened to you this weekend?" Hotch was so upset his statement sounded like a suggestion.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

WHAT? She couldn't be serious! She had been completely broken less than 24 hours ago! How could she even pretend not to remember? "Emily! You were raped!" She gulped. The following "No, I wasn't!" was barely audible but still gave her away. If he'd be talking nonsense, she wouldn't have whispered. She would've stared at him in confusion, would've dramatically shouted "_WHAT?_", would've maybe even called him insane. She would've sounded confused, maybe upset, but not hurt. Not scared. Hotch opened his mouth and then closed it again, not knowing what to say. How could she just stand here, trying to pretend nothing had ever happened?

"Emily" He started. "Please don't do this." "I don't know wha..." She tried again weakly, but Hotch interrupted her. "Stop it! You know exactly what I'm talking about! I'm talking about picking you up at this disgusting motel on a Sunday morning. I'm talking about driving you to the hospital and and spending four hours in the car, waiting for you to come back. I'm talking about you sitting on the backseat, begging me not to look at you because you didn't want me to see you crying, breaking down. I'm talking about you slamming the door in my face after I'd dropped you off at your place, because you were so ashamed that you couldn't even look at me!" Hotch stopped and took a deep breath, trying to control his voice.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Emily!" He repeated, glaring at her with a piercing look. Emily gulped, and for a brief moment, Hotch was sure she was going to burst into tears, but she didn't. "Maybe. But you can't prove it." Emily whispered, unable to even look at him. "Officially, nothing of what you just said ever happened."


	3. Chapter 3

_Nothing of what you just said ever happened._ What was this supposed to mean? He had dropped her off at the hospital himself! He had spent hours in his car waiting for her. She'd been wearing scrubs when she'd come back, for god's sake! It was real. He knew it was real. Why was she denying it? Suddenly, a dark realization hit him. _Officially_. She had said that nothing had _officially_ happened to her. Could this mean...?

"Emily... Please tell me you did get examined!"  
"There is no rape-kit labeled _Emily Prentiss_ in this hospital." She answered truthfully. "You can't prove anything. You don't have any legal basis for making me stay at home or see a shrink. None whatsoever. I'm here and I'm going to work cases. I'm fine."  
"You're not."  
"Then prove it!"

Silence.

"I still have the text you sent me!" Hotch stated, sounding unusually desperate.  
"They don't prove anything. You know that." Both of them knew that this was not completely true: Yes, a text message consisting of "Please leave, Aaron. I'm fine" didn't prove anything in a legal sense. But if Hotch actually told their superiors, they'd have to go into the matter. And this would leave Emily with only two choices: Admit that Hotch was telling the truth or undergo another examination that would eventually reveal that she had lied, but neither of that was not going to happen.

What this whole situation boiled down to was that Hotch would never break his promise of not telling anybody. He'd never use anything of what had happened the previous day against her, knowing that if he talked to his superiors without Emily's consent, she'd never forgive him - he'd lose her trust forever. And Hotch knew that she trusted him – at least to some point – because otherwise she would've never called him. Would've never allowed him to see her cry. She had to know she could trust him! Whatever it was they had: It meant something. Something Hotch would never dare to destroy.

He sighed heavily. "You're right. It doesn't prove anything."  
Emily gave a condescending nod and one second later, she was gone.

_Six hours later, Hotch watched a woman who'd just been raped board an FBI jet to hunt down a serial rapist slash killer in the woods of North Carolina. _


	4. Chapter 4

_Hi guys! I know it's been ages - I'm really sorry! I promise you won't have to wait that long for chapter 5!_

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Hotch knew he should be listening the team's theories about the unsub, his MO and possible triggers. He knew he should be participating in the briefing, knew it was highly inappropriate to spend the whole one and a half hour flight staring at Emily, but he just couldn't help it. How could she do this to herself? How could _he let her __do this to herself? Within the past twenty minutes, the words __raped, rapist __and __rape__had come up at least a dozen times! Were they really making Emily cringe every single time, or was it just his imagination? Oh god - this __had to __end badly!_

For the past hours – days, even! - Hotch had been telling himself that he would be there for her. He had made it his personal mission to keep Emily safe – no matter what. He wasn't being obsessive, just... protective. And the perk of being the boss was being the one making the decisions. So naturally, he had decided Emily was going to talk to the latest victim's family with him, while the other team members were assigned tasks like talking to the coroner et cetera. It had seemed like a fool-proof plan: He could be with here, could check on her, could get an idea of whether she was ready to work or not.

Eventually, however, everything went south. It all started with the question every homicide victim's loved ones ask: "Did she suffer?" - A question Hotch had been prepared for: A low "Yes.", followed by a break just long enough to make eye contact and then an empathetic and sincere "We're sorry". It was almost standard procedure. But then the victim's mother had asked another question: "Why? Why did she have to be conscious? Why couldn't he... drug her or...?" A loud, desperate sniff.

_The truth was both simple and cruel: The unsub had wanted his victim – their little girl - to suffer. He had __wanted __to see the fear in her eyes when he had tied her hands together so she couldn't defend herself. He had __wanted __to see her shame and disgust when he raped her - because that was what excited, what aroused him. But of course this wasn't at all what the families wanted to hear, so instead, the team usually repeated their condolences and reassured the families that they'd do __everything in their power __to __find the man who did this. __Sometimes, especially when there were children involved, the wording escalated to __hunting that bastard down, __but that was it. Anything else was completely off limits. Unprofessional. Unnecessarily cruel._

There were certain lines they just didn't cross. Except today, Emily did: "Do you think that would've made it easier?" Mrs. Warner was shocked by the agent's aggressive tone. And she didn't stop. "Do you have any idea what it's like to wake up hurting, _knowing __that he did __something __to you, but not knowing what it was? How can you wish that on your own child? What kind of mother are you?" _

_A loud smack resonated through the room. Emily held her cheek and stared into the furious eyes of a grieving mother who had just lost her only daughter. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"_

Hotch all but dragged Emily into the hallway, murmuring an apology into Mrs. Warner's direction.  
He knew his _"__Please excuse us for a minute!" w__as nowhere near enough, but right now, dealing Emily was top priority. _

_"You're suspended." He barked.  
"I..." _

_"__Go back to the hotel."  
"Hotch, I..."  
"That's an order."_

Emily flinched involuntarily from the harshness of his words.

"I'm sorry, Hotch. I..." Her voice was shaking now, and she seemed like a scared child. Hotch sighed. He knew he shouldn't have screamed at her like this. Eventually, it was all his fault – he shouldn't have let her work the case in the first place! "Just... go back, will you? I'm going to make this right and then we'll talk." His voice was much lower, much calmer now, with a hint of guilt in it, but it wasn't enough. The damage was done. Emily timidly nodded and quickly turned away so Hotch wouldn't see the tears dwelling up in her eyes. Then she ran out, leaving Hotch with a bad conscience and a crying bereaved mother.

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_Please take a second to review - it means the world to me!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! Here I am with a new chapter... Enjoy and review! **

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_For the past few hours, Hotch had been choosing his words carefully. He had been planning his speech down to the tiniest detail, trying to account for every possible situation, every possible reaction. The memory of how scared she'd seemed back at the victim's mother's house – how scared of him! - still sickened him. He shouldn't have been so harsh, shouldn't have screamed at her. Hell, he shouldn't have let her join the team on this case in the first place! But she was here, and he had screamed at her. Nothing could change that. What he __could __change now was what came next, so he had spent hours trying to find a way how to tell her everything he wanted to tell her, everything he wanted her to know, without offending her, hurting her, scaring her. Now that he was finally standing in front of Emily's door, he was prepared for everything. Well, __almost __everything: For starters, something he wasn't prepared for was her not answering the door..._

He knocked again, worry overtaking his thoughts. She knew he was coming to see her – he'd told her, and she'd nodded in agreement, hadn't she?

Why wasn't she answering the damn door? "Emily?" Another, almost desperate knock. "It's me, Hotch." Nothing. "Emily? Please open the door!" No reaction. Hotch gulped. She had to hear him! Unless... No! Hotch tried to push that thought away, but fear was a strong opponent. He could feel it invade his thoughts, cloud his judgment - and before he realized what he was doing, he was searching the pockets of his jacket for the second key card he had asked for at the reception during check-in.

Hotch wasn't sure whether Emily knew he had asked for a key to her room. After Garner, Foyet and Doyle, the team had developed a habit of handing each other spare keys to their homes and key cards to the hotel rooms they stayed in during their cases - just in case... By now, each of them had a spare key to every other team member's home, but when they were on a case, the standard procedure was just giving a second key card to the one living in the room closest to your own, and that had _happened to be __him (well, technically __him and Rossi__, but...). Hotch shook his head, trying diffuse the guilt creeping up inside of him. He wasn't doing anything wrong: He had told her he'd come by her room after calming down the victim's mother, whom Emily had insulted before Hotch had sent her back. And here he was but Emily wasn't answering the door. The next logical step was to open it himself and check on her. Period. Hotch sighed and swiped the card through the card reader on Emily's door. While entering, he announced himself loudly but nobody answered. _

_"__Emily?" He repeated. "Are you here?" She didn't __have to __answer this time, because as soon as Aaron turned around the corner, he saw her. She was sitting on her bed, facing the wall. She was so calm she seemed like she was frozen. She __was__ breathing, right? _"Emily?" She didn't even look up. Slowly – predictably - he walked towards her and finally _knelt down next to the bed. "Emily? Talk to me. Please!" No reaction. "Emily... you're scaring me!" "'m fine." She whispered. "No, you're not!" Hotch scanned her body for clues, for hints. There had to be an explanation for why she... _Suddenly, he froze. "There's... there's blood between... your thighs!" She didn't react. What the hell was going on? „You're bleeding" Hotch repeated, his voice urging. "I know" Emily finally whispered. "I..." She stopped, closed her eyes shut and bit her lip. Was she in pain? "Do you need... anything?" She didn't reply. Was she shutting him out on purpose or was she unable to respond? "Emily... you're bleeding!" Hotch repeated, gently touching her shoulder to make her look at him. That was when she erupted in what could have been anger or fear. Her second "I know!" was a desperate, shrill scream. Emily pushed his hand away, jumped up and fled to the bathroom. The lock clicked into place before Hotch had even realized what had just happened. S_hit!_

Seconds turned into minutes. Two. Five. Maybe ten, until Hotch finally brought up the courage to gently knock on the bathroom door. "Emily? I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." To what? Didn't mean to intrude your privacy? Didn't mean to scare you? _Didn't mean for any of this to happen? _Why did everything he said sound so cliché? He sighed. „Do you... need anything?" He finally asked. "Please leave" Her voice was barely a whisper, desperate and breathy. It broke Hotch's heart – because she sounded so fragile, and because he knew he had to deny her request.

"I'm not leaving. Not until you talk to me, Emily." The silence that followed was eventually broken by a clicking sound. Emily had unlocked the door but it was still closed. Hotch waited patiently.

„Hotch?"  
„Yes?"  
A sigh.

„There's a pair of black sweatpants in my bag. Could you...?"  
„Of course."

Hotch passed the pants through a tiny crack in the bathroom door and waited. When Emily finally came out, she kept her eyes glued to the ground and sat down on the carpet floor, leaning against the wall. Hotch followed her lead, however leaving enough space between the two of them so Emily wouldn't feel threatened by his presence.

„Why won't you look at me, Emily?" Hotch asked after a while. „How can _you_ look at _me_?" „What?" „You... you know what happened. You saw me breaking down right in front of you. And now you've even seen... this! How can you still stay here? I'm... I'm disgusting and pathetic!" She choked on her tears. "What? No, you're not!" No reaction. „Please look at me! You are neither disgusting nor pathetic, Emily. None of this is your fault!" Emily desperately tried to hide the tears streaming down her face, but her painful sobs gave her away. Hotch sighed a painful sigh and took a leap of faith and slowly reached out for her hand. When she squeezed back, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Please talk to me, Emily" She shook her head. "I can't" "Yes, you can!" Another head-shaking. Hotch sighed. "The blood... was that...?" Emily nodded, avoiding his gaze. He didn't say anything, just waited for her to continue. "They told me this was gonna happen." Hotch frowned, not knowing what she was talking about. Emily gulped. "The doctor in the... hospital. The one who... the one who examined me..." Emily paused, hoping Hotch would understand but he just stared at her in confusion. _Oh god!_ "She said the pill would start my..." She inhaled deeply. "She said it would start my period so I wouldn't get... pregnant." Hotch's eyes widened. "Oh." "Y..yeah." Silence.

"I... I think you should go now" "Emily..." "Please, Hotch. I know we... have to talk, but... not tonight. Please! I just need... I..." Hotch sighed. "It's okay. Shh. You're right. You need to get some rest. We can talk tomorrow." "Thank you."

Hotch got up, sighed and hesitated. "You don't have to go through this alone, you know?"  
She didn't respond.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: I know, I know - it's been ages since my last update and this chapter is embarrassingly short. I promise there's more to come!**_

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„How is she?"

Hotch froze, then rolled his eyes. Of course Rossi knew where he had been! They were profilers, after all. This whole „keeping secrets from each other"-thing didn't really work here. He had been foolish to even consider the possibility of sneaking into their hotel room without Rossi noticing.

Hotch sighed and turned the lights on, causing his roommate to sit up in his bed and blink a few times to adjust to the light. „Yes...?" He prompted expectantly but Hotch didn't say anything. Rossi understood. „I assume she made you promise not to tell anyone?" Hotch nodded yes and Rossi sighed at his friend's answer. „That bad?" Another nod. „I just don't know what to do" Hotch confessed, resignedly sitting down on his bed. Rossi waited patiently for him to continue. "I suspended her." Hotch finally confessed and Rossi frowned. "Why? What did she do?" "Officially, she didn't do anything." He explained cryptically, causing Rossi's frown to intensify. "I – we're going to tell the team that she's sick. It's flu time, anyways, and JJ's sick, too, so..." He shot Rossi a conspiratorial glance. "You don't want any of this to go in her file." The older agent assumed, earning an affirmative nod. "That's one of the reasons" Hotch confirmed. "Okay..." Silence. "I won't tell you, Dave." "I know." Another sigh. "I'm sorry." Rossi made a dismissive gesture.

"Did she tell you to leave?" Hotch hesitated, then nodded yes. "She's stubborn" Rossi started. "Because she's strong. Whatever happened: She can get through this, Aaron. She's Emily!" Hotch must have made a disbelieving noise because Rossi sighed. "Was she crying?" He asked softly. This time, Hotch didn't want to confirm Rossi's assumption but the sad look in his gave him away. Rossi sighed. "Whatever happened is not your fault" Hotch sniffed, avoiding his friend's gaze. "There's nothing you can do for her until she's admitted to herself that she needs help." "I know" Hotch replied sadly. Rossi sighed."She knows you're there for her, Aaron. Just give her some time! And now do yourself a favor and go to bed. There's nothing more you could have done for her tonight."

Hotch sighed and finally obliged, knowing that sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight – neither for him nor for Emily.


	7. Chapter 7

Hotch had hoped coming back to Emily's room the next day would be easier. He'd been wrong. Again, he didn't know what to expect and obviously that meant that – again – he wouldn't be prepared. The only thing he had done was getting Emily a hot water bottle at the reception, figuring that _in her current condition_, it might be the only thing he could do for her. Hotch inwardly sighed at the memory of embarrassing himself in front of the receptionist. He had wanted to opt for the least sensational explanation ("My girlfriend/fiance/wife is having cramps") but that had somehow felt like betrayal. It wasn't anybody's business that Emily was on her period. Oh, and then there was the insignificant detail that Emily was not his girlfriend/fiance/wife. On the long shot that the receptionist remembered he was with the FBI, Hotch didn't want to be raising any questions among his team members because some hotel employees couldn't keep their mouth shut. So eventually, Hotch had just told the guy at the reception that his colleague was having a stomach bug which happened to be exactly what he had told the rest of the team to account for Emily's absence. Again, Hotch sighed. His mind just didn't work properly when Emily was involved...

So there he was now, standing in front of Emily's door again, afraid to knock and even more afraid not to knock. He just had to make sure she was okay... (The second he'd finished that thought, Hotch realized that this was not going to happen – no matter how well-composed Emily would pretend she was: She was still miles from "okay".) He sighed, mentally bracing himself for whatever was expecting him now.

Emily opened the door after the first knock, which Hotch wasn't sure how to interpret. Had she been waiting for him? Or had she just heard his footsteps in the hallway? He didn't bother asking because he knew if she'd been sitting right next to the door all morning, she wouldn't admit it anyways. So instead, he just said "Good morning" and followed Emily's invitation to enter the room. On the second thought, _invitation_ didn't seem like the right word. All it took was one look in her puffy eyes, one look behind that cracked up facade of hers, and Hotch knew that she didn't want him there. He gulped, trying to convince himself that her denial wasn't only aimed against him but everybody. She was still Emily Prentiss, after all. She barely ever broke down but when she did, she didn't allow any witnesses. Especially not him!

Seconds – minutes? – passed, spent awkwardly standing next to the door. While Emily was evidently trying to avoid Hotch's gaze, he was busy deciding what to say to her. Eventually, he opted for a "You promised you'd talk to me today", then realized he sounded like a stubborn child. _But you said I could have candy after dinner! _Involuntarily, his thoughts wandered off to his son. Thank god he had finally grown out of the defiant phase. And thank god he seemed to have handled his mom's death pretty well. Hotch sighed. For all he knew, Jack was okay. But Emily wasn't. She was trying to hide it, of course, but he was pretty sure she had spent a large part of the previous night lying awake. She didn't look like she had gotten any sleep at all but that was something they both had in common. Hotch himself, however, had spent the night thinking whereas Emily looked like she'd spent it crying. He tried not to stare at at but couldn't help but notice how she was pressing her hand against her stomach, grimacing with pain.

Oh, right! He offered her the hot water bottle and felt strangely relieved when she actually took it and pressed it against her lower abdomen. "I figured..." Emily nodded quickly so he wouldn't say it. "Thank you." She mumbled. "Do you wanna sit down?" Hotch worriedly asked. She pressed her lips together, gazing towards her bed which was the only available sitting accommodation in the whole room. She was just about to shake her head when another cramp all but knocked the breath out of her. Resignedly, she sat down on her bed, leaning against the headboard.

"I think I might have some Ibuprofen in my suitcase..." Emily violently shook her head no and murmured something like "I'm fine" but the way she pressed the hot water bottle against her skin gave away how big the pain was.

"Is it better when you lie down?" "I don't know." Her answer made Hotch frown. How could she not know whether the pain getting manageable when she lay down? He decided to only interpret Emily's answer as a hint that she didn't want to talk about it, so Hotch wordlessly sat down on the second bed – the one that would've been JJ's if she hadn't called in sick - and looked at Emily. She was clutching the hot water bottle so tightly against her body that Hotch was afraid she would get burned. But then, barely a second later, she looked up and their eyes met for a brief second. She had caught him staring at her. Resolutely, she grabbed the hot water bottle and put it on the nightstand before sitting up.

Silence.

"I don't think you're weak, Emily"

She didn't respond verbally but Hotch could see that he had hit home. Her breathing rhythm had increased and he felt like Emily was deliberately avoiding his gaze. "You're in pain. You're hurt. That's nothing to be ashamed of, Emily." He saw her biting her lip at his last statement, as if she was trying to keep herself from contradicting him. "Talk to me." She pressed her lips together and didn't answer. Hesitatingly, she reached out for the hot water bottle and pressed it against her belly again. _"__Is it... worse than usually?" Emily bit her lip and didn't respond for long enough to cause Hotch to worry whether his question had gone to far, but eventually, she spoke: "Yes? I... I'm not sure. It just feels... different." "Different how?" She shook her head, indicating that she didn't want to answer his question. Hotch understood immediately and didn't push it. _

_Silence. _

"So you _did_ get examined." He stated after a while, not knowing what else to say. If Emily had been given an emergency contraceptive, then she had gotten examined. Emily nodded and Hotch frowned. Then why had she told him there was no evidence, no file? _"There is no rape-kit labeled Emily Prentiss in this hospital." _Hotch remembered the exact wording because it had turned his stomach. Back in his office, he had actually believed her – believed that he had either waited those four hours in vain or that was going insane. Both options were not really appealing... This time, he wasn't going to drop it that quickly. Hotch shot Emily a look of expectancy and – lo and behold – his pseudo-interrogation-technique worked. "I... I made my doctor code the... DNA samples." Emily confessed. "I signed something to confirm that the code belongs to me. So if CODIS comes up with a match, the chain of evidence is still intact and the DNA samples be matched to me without any doubt." Emily paused and Hotch finished the sentence for her: "...but if there's no match, nothing of all this is put in your medical file."

Emily nodded guiltily. "We're FBI. If something like that showed up in my medical file, my superiors would be notified." Hotch knew whom she meant: Strauss, who would probably murmur her condolences while signing a statement that declared Emily suspended until she had served so and so many sessions with an FBI-assigned shrink. And that took time – more time than a stomach bug. The team would find out the truth eventually.

Hotch knew he should be saying something. Knew that as her superior, he should at least make a comment about this being a legal grey area, tops. But knowing that Emily had done all this just so nobody would find out sent cold shivers down his spine. How could she be so ashamed for something that wasn't even her fault? His thoughts were being interrupted by a low whimper. Hotch shot her a worried glance. "It hurts" She whispered. Hotch nodded understandingly but Emily shook her head. "Not the..." She gestured towards the hot water bottle pressed against her belly. "Not... _there_." She gave him a meaningful look. _Oh. _

"Everything's just... sore. I... don't _remember_ what he did, but I... I can feel it, Hotch. I know that he must have done... some things because..." She tried to blink away the tears threatening to overwhelm her. When she realized she wouldn't win no matter how hard she tried, she just kept talking, pretending not to notice the tears running down her cheeks and hoping for Hotch to do the same. Of course he didn't. He opened his mouth to say something and thereby cut her off. Emily finished her sentence with a brief "... it just hurts", and Hotch couldn't escape the feeling that there had been something else she'd wanted to say. He felt like he'd just screwed up but that was basically how he'd been feeling for the past two days. He just wanted to make her feel safe. Why did it feel like all he'd made her so far was cry? Wasn't there anything he could to to help her? Hotch suddenly felt the urge to just get up and sit next to her but he didn't dare, not knowing how she'd react. Sure, last night they had sat next to each other and she'd even allowed him to hold her hand for a brief moment, but the bed was different, right? Hotch opted for a compromise by just leaning a bit further towards her without leaving his bed. The timid, ashamed look on her face told him that he'd probably made the right decision.

"I can't even say it, Aaron." Emily whispered. "How am I supposed to get over... what happened when I can't even say it?" Hotch didn't respond, not wanting to push her. He couldn't make her say it. Didn't want to make her say it. It had to be her choice. She had to be the one saying it, and she had to be the one deciding when to do so. After all the times he'd looked at her when she'd clearly not wanted him to, all the times he'd talked to her when all she'd wanted was being left alone, he just owed her to wait until she was ready, no matter whether it took her ten seconds or ten hours.

So he did. He just waited. Waited for her to realize that what had happened had happened, no matter whether she admitted it or not. Waited for her to have courage and shame fight their decisive battle. Waited. Waited. Waited. And then, suddenly, the waiting came to an end.

"You..." Emily cleared her throat, knowing that would buy her an extra second. Then she inhaled deeply and let out a painful sigh. "You were right, Hotch. I... I was raped." And with that, she had finally admitted it. She was no longer in denial, no longer hiding, no longer lying. But they both knew that this was far from over...

* * *

**_A/N: Sooo... As Emily is no longer in denial, this is were the story ends - but of course not forever! There will be another sequel called "Despair" soon, again dealing with just what the title predicts. As it will be posted as a "new" story, the regular automatic sequel alert email thingie won't work unless you "follow" me as an author. And no, that's not just a cheap trick to get more followers. In my opinion, posting "Disgust", "Denial" and "Despair" as stand-alone fanfictions just makes more sense! Why don't you just pass the time waiting for "Despair" telling me what you think about this final chapter and/or the whole story? :)_**


	8. Follow-up Story

Hi!

So for those of you who tend to skip the A/N - "Denial" is complete but there will be a follow-up story called "Despair". Just check out my profile! Chapters one and two are already online!

Enjoy &amp; review! :)

Best wishes,

Zebrastreifen

This sequel alert will be deleted soon, I just posted this here so you guys would receive a sequel alert email and find your way to "Despair" :)


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